


Sin of Alice

by Onus_Probandi



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game), SINoALICE
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, I'm just tagging this NieR because of a later set of chapters, M/M, Multi, OC later on, Other, Pain, Romance(?), Spoilers, Story Retelling, Suffering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:34:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onus_Probandi/pseuds/Onus_Probandi
Summary: {Alternative title: Concept}They awaken in Library, a degenerate brought to this world to fight for their Author's revival.Death is not an option, as blood rains thick and hot, the smell of metal oozing from the pages."Kill lots and lots!" Genshin screams in absolute delight."Unless you're a coward who wants to die a horrible death?!" Anki adds, giggling with the white one.





	1. Alice

All that can be said of her is “desperation”.

She is desperate and therefore a fool, clinging to fleeting emotions left in her heart during the twilit moment between slumber and awakening. It's something, perhaps a smell, perhaps a soft smile. The sound of soft music from a music box. The feeling of safety...or perhaps abandonment.

Her Author? Maybe. All she wishes is to see him again, but the thoughts of who created her drown in disgust. Her waking memories of him don’t at all fit the whispers in her dreams.

She shakes her head, ridding it of such foolish things. She doesn’t have time to worry about anything she doesn’t know. Library is a world that demands instant reaction, lest you fall victim to the brutal, unforgiving maw of a Nightmare. She will not die. She  _ can’t _ . She is bound here by the laws of such a world of death and murder, she is bound by her sins, by the blood flecks drifting from her blade.

“Hey, stupid!” The puppets screech with laughter and she groans, loudly, from her resting position against the carved bookshelves. She’s careful to remove the books before laying down, for last time she was violently awakened by a Nightmare escaping the confines of it’s story.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes and face. “What?”

“You can’t be resting! You’ve got to kill, lots and lots!” The white one chatters and the grey one continues, “that’s right! You want to revive your Author, don’t you?!”

All that can be said of her is “restriction” for she is constantly bound here, to them, to this world and to the mindless desire of chasing the ghost of the man who created her. These puppets know she has no mind, will or strength of her own, and they exploit it to torment her.

She inhales, standing up and swatting at the annoying little creatures.

“Of course I do.”

She walks away, the puppets screams of delight fading into the endless drone of cries that was her only company as the walls of Library loom ominously around her, ready to devour her the moment she wavered.

Alice supposes that many things can be said of her.

But the only accurate one would be “soulless”.


	2. Briar

She sleeps, body curled into a loose ball around the protection of her doll, fingers twitching in slumber. It is far too loud in Library, but she manages, drifting off and managing to stay in her realm of slumber until someone is brazen enough to tear her away from it.

She sleeps, mind adrift in this cruel world, her fingers and face stained with dark, glowing purple ink. It pulses even as she rests, working whatever savage magic it will on her, she has long since lost the capacity for _caring_. The moonlit flowers she sleeps among smell of ink, just like everything else in this world, just as she does.

But again. She's stopped caring.

She lives a life of sleeping and occasional eating, ignoring whatever stupid rules this world has. As long as she can sleep, then what's the point of rules?

She sleeps, and the puppets know better than to scream at _her._ After all, Genshin wants to keep her head. Even they can learn, she supposes, watching the temperamental sloth doze for the tenth time today.

She's lazy, but farther ahead than the others due to her easily offended sensibilities, her easily broken slumber.

She mutters in her sleep, clutching her doll to her chest, relishing in the feeling of being safe, of being protected, of being asleep.

She sleeps, and the puppets flutter away, bored of her antics or lack thereof.


End file.
